


Ten Years

by jl_micasea



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: All Rights Reserved, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Breathplay, Bullying, Confrontations, Cumplay, Do Not Translate, Do not repost, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hate Sex, Hatred, Minor Violence, Slice of Life, Swearing, Time Skips, minho is an asshole yet again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:01:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28915020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jl_micasea/pseuds/jl_micasea
Summary: From high school to adulthood and even beyond that, people change. They grow. Your old high school bully saw to the condemning of your school life, and years later, he still plagues your thoughts. But is his growth enough to warrant forgiveness?
Relationships: Lee Minho | Lee Know/Reader
Kudos: 23





	Ten Years

**Author's Note:**

> Repost from my old Tumblr account.  
> I liked this idea, I do think I could have done more with it but honestly it would never have ended. Feedback appreciated through AO3 or on Tumblr @jl-micasea. Please consider leaving kudos or a comment on this if you enjoyed it, they're all responded to and are what keeps me motivated. ~Mica  
> ~ [Tumblr](https://jl-micasea.tumblr.com/)  
> ~ [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/jlmicasea)

##### 16 years old.

Puberty, stress, and a fuckton of hormones that you can neither control nor understand.

And as if being 16 wasn’t difficult enough in itself, you had the added frustration of being mortal enemies with admittedly the most popular boy at school.

Lee Minho was the walking, talking poster boy of Greenacre Academy, and by all accounts, a raging dickhead. Though no one but you seemed to notice that aspect of his personality.

You pushed your glasses up your nose, squinting at the Math problems in front of you as you desperately tried to cram before the pop quiz you just knew was coming next period. You couldn’t afford to fail again, if only for the absolute kicking you’d get from your parents if you did.

Sucking absently on the end of your pen, you leaned in to the textbook spread out over your small class desk, working out the problems in your head.

_The square root of 12 is 3.5… multiply that by-  
_

You sighed under your breath, willing your brain to just start working.

When a sudden harsh impact to the back of your head sent you reeling forwards, knocking the solution to the problem firmly out of your mind, the glasses clean off your face and the pen in your hand straight to the back of your throat. You narrowly avoided smashing your head into your desk, and were graced with a sharp, stinging pain where the pen had grazed against the roof of your mouth, causing you to cough and heave desperately.

You knew immediately, that hadn’t been an accident. The laughter that erupted from the back of the classroom told you that.

“You should be more careful, Minho…” A boy sniggered from behind you. “You hit Y/N!”

“Did I?” His voice crooned, positively laced with sarcasm. “Well I definitely wasn’t aiming for her…”

You fought back the urge to turn around and curse at him, knowing that a reaction was exactly what he was looking for, and that it’d only spur him on if you gave him one.

So you stood from your desk, reaching down to grab your glasses as you ignored the group of boys that were still laughing at your expense. You picked them up, immediately noticing the beautifully clean crack that ran down the middle of the left lens, and you gritted your teeth in frustration. That was the third pair this month.

“Oh dear…” Minho cooed, strolling towards you with his hands in his pockets. You slumped back into your chair, turning the spectacles over in your fingers. “Did your glasses break?”

Blatantly ignoring him, you swept the hair off your face as you tried to get back to what you were doing. The pain in your mouth was getting worse, and you were pretty sure you could now taste the irony twang of blood.

Minho leaned in, bringing his face next to yours. You held your breath, eyes fixed to the book in front of you.

_Just pretend he’s not there._

“Looks like they’re broken…” He whispered, taking them from your hands. You winced as his fingers brushed against yours, making you tense all over.

You watched as he held the glasses in front of your face, placing his fingers either side of the lenses. With one quick, nonchalant motion, he snapped them cleanly in half and dropped the pieces on your desk.

“You look better without them anyway.” He purred, tussling your hair as he walked back to his friends, picking up his bag from the floor. You figured that’s what he must have thrown at you.

The overwhelming urge to cry and scream consumed you. It far outweighed any pain you were experiencing, and if you weren’t so exhausted with it all, you’d at least have tried to punch him straight in the face.

He’d tormented you for years. From the moment you’d met him on the first day of school, up until now. You weren’t sure what you’d done to attract his cruelty, but he’d made it his mission to make your life nothing short of miserable. As a bonus, making you his target meant that you’d all but been plunged into a life of isolation. No one wanted to know you, let alone be your friend. And that was because the threat of being subjected to Minho’s antics was far worse than the prospect of getting to know you.

Tears stung at your eyes, and you began to shake uncontrollably. This was too much. It wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve this.

Standing from your desk, you threw your glasses to the floor and ran out of the classroom, leaving the chortles of the boys and the gaping stares of your other passive classmates behind you.

You sprinted to the closest bathroom, rushing inside and throwing yourself into a free stall.

You fumbled with the lock, just managing to get it closed before your knees gave out. You sunk to the cold, dirty laminate floor and brought your legs to your chest. The tears that had threatened to break you began to spill, rolling down your cheeks and staining the sleeves of your shirt as you cried into your arms.

The pounding in your head and the sickly taste of blood stayed with you for the rest of the day.

You couldn’t face this much longer.

* * *

##### The next morning, you wandered to school with a heavy heart.

You’d learned to ignore the feelings of despair and the pit in your stomach that you woke up with, managing to get through it by distracting yourself with anything you could. Lately, you’d taken to drawing. You weren’t particularly good at it, but sketching gave you a sense of therapeutic calm that you hadn’t found anywhere else. At first, you’d just drawn objects. Things that you’d seen around the school or classroom, nothing too exciting. When your confidence had grown, you’d started tracing faces, and then moved to bodies. Something about the vulnerability of the naked human form had always seemed beautiful to you, but of course, no one else knew that. It was your secret little vice, safely locked away in your school desk, just for when you needed it. Keeping it at home where parents lurked was far too much of a risk to take.

It also helped to remind yourself that this was all just temporary. High school was just a bump in the road. A blip in your life that you’d soon forget when you broke free from it. You just needed to get to the end. 

And avoid Lee Minho at all costs.

* * *

##### You walked into the classroom, eyes fixed to the floor as per usual.

A sly comment or two would usually be thrown your way when you arrived at school, that was just the norm now. But today, you were surprised to hear nothing. And you knew Minho and his friends were there, because you could hear them talking amongst themselves.

Feeling uncertain at the sudden change in their routine, you quickly approached your desk, settling into the chair and placing your bag into your lap. You zipped it open and fished out your books and pencil case, placing them on your desk.

Still no nasty comment, not even so much as a glance was thrown in your direction as you stood and moved over to your locker at the back of the classroom to put your bag away.

This was definitely strange… Maybe they actually felt bad about yesterday?

You grabbed your locker key from your pocket, sliding it into the lock. It seemed to catch on something as you turned it, so you placed your bag on the floor and used both hands in an attempt to get it unlocked. Crummy old school lockers-

You eventually forced it, swinging open the door.

And something happened that you didn’t quite expect.

A sudden burst of freezing cold liquid shot from somewhere within your locker, covering your face and body from the shoulders up. It smothered you completely, shocking every single one of your senses as it slapped you with brutal force.

Hysterical laughter blew up from around the room, mainly from the group of boys that were surrounding Minho.

You froze in place, blinking slowly as you absorbed what had just happened.

You began to shake as the cold set in, soaking into your clothes and trickling down your scalp. You cleared your eyes of the substance, and you immediately noticed how it definitely wasn’t water. It was stickier… slimier than that. You gagged at the vile sensation combined with the sudden smell that wafted up your nose… it was like rotten fish.

“Dude, that was definitely the best one yet!” One of the boys shouted, physically pointing at you as he nudged at Minho.

You turned to face him, your expression unreadable.

He looked up at you from his seat, his hands in his pockets as he lounged backwards, a smug smile plastered across his lips.

“Gross. Is it just me, or can you smell fish?” He muttered, pinching his nose as he looked you up and down.

This was it. The final straw. The single little push you’d needed.

You screamed at the top of your lungs, charging towards Minho in a wild rage. His eyes flew open at your outburst, and you didn’t give him time to react as you grabbed him by the scruff of his blazer. He fell backwards off his chair, and you followed, straddling his lap as you began to punch him hopelessly.

Your fists connected with his face and chest, the slime on your body covering him as you writhed around like a mad woman. You had no doubt that you weren’t even remotely hurting him, but you needed this. You had to do _something._

Tears of anger began to flow from you, and you sobbed desperately, clawing at his neck and skin.

“Get off him!” One of the boys yelled, hooking his arms under yours as he dragged you off Minho.

He threw you to the floor, and you gasped for breath as your strength faded.

Minho sat up, swiping his sleeve across his face. You might not have hurt him, but you’d at least done some damage as you noticed the long, clean cut on his neck. You’d always been proud of your nails. Now you knew they were good for something.

“You’ll pay for that.” He growled, dragging himself off the floor. His cronies moved to his side, pandering and fussing, but he promptly shoved them away as he stalked past you.

You were done. He needed to know that you weren’t going to take his shit anymore. You refused to be the butt of his jokes, his toy to be played with. So you didn’t regret what you’d done.

At least, not right now.

* * *

##### Day 3 of possibly the worst week of your life.

For the first time, you’d begged your parents not to send you to school. You’d pleaded with them, pulling out every excuse in the book to get them on side. You thought that arriving home early yesterday, bereft of your jacket and covered in questionable, translucent slime would have been enough for them to realise that there might have been something going on that they didn’t know about.

But either they didn’t care, or they simply didn’t notice. Because your appeals hadn’t worked.

You felt worse than usual, and on your way to school you’d decided that the best thing to do would be to sleep off as much of the day as possible in the Nurse’s Office. At least you’d be safe there.

So you’d gotten out of first and second period, blaming ‘lady problems’ for the lack of colour in your complexion and the pains in your stomach. To any old outsider, and luckily, the school Nurse, that excuse was perfectly believable. But you knew those side effects were being caused by something entirely different.

You were scared. Fear was the only thing that made you feel this way. Fear of running into Minho or his goons. Fear of the revenge that he’d promised he’d exact.

You turned over in the stuffy little bed, bringing the covers up to your shoulders and sighing under your breath. Being here had definitely helped, you were now feeling marginally less anxious than before. You just prayed the Nurse would let you have a few more hours…

As if on cue, you heard the door to the Office open and shut.

You closed your eyes, turning to your side and pretending to sleep as you heard the curtain around your cubicle being dragged open.

Footsteps against the laminate floor circled your bed, moving towards your back. You felt a gentle hand on your hair, and your eyes immediately flew open. It wasn’t like the Nurse to touch students unless they gave consent… and even then, they almost definitely had to be awake.

A deep, dark pit formed in your stomach as the subtle scent of a familiar cologne wafted over you.

_No… please._

You clung to the bed covers, tentatively turning your head towards the intruder.

It was him.

You immediately shot up the bed, pulling the covers with you and holding them to your chest in defence. Minho smiled, cocking his head as he looked you up and down. You immediately noticed the large, beige coloured band aid across his neck, presumably hiding the clean cut you’d given him yesterday.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding…” He purred, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You shook your head at him, your face draining of all colour as you began to shake.

“I’ll s- scream…” You stammered, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Well there’s no need for that.” He laughed, sweeping his hand through his caramel coloured tresses. “I’m just here to talk.”

“T- talk?”

Minho nodded, crossing his legs elegantly as he looked absently around the cubicle.

“You know…” He sighed. “I think we got off on the wrong foot, you and me.”

 _What?_ He was the one that had started all this. You didn’t deserve even an ounce of the blame.

“I know we’ve both done things to hurt each other-”

“I haven’t done anything.” You muttered under your breath. “I never did.”

Minho shot you a complacent look, pursing his lips.

“All I’m trying to say is… why don’t we start over?”

You gawped at him, every single one of your senses screaming at you that this was obviously a trap. Another one of his sick jokes.

“I mean… I’ve always had a weakness for people with talents. And honestly, I didn’t realise how talented you really were.”

“What are you talking about?” You exclaimed, furrowing your brow.

“You know what I’m talking about.” He smiled, nonchalantly inspecting his nails as he spoke. “Your drawings.”

Your heart stopped. He couldn’t be talking about your sketchpad. How had he found out…? You’d been so careful…

“I gotta ask though… do you always draw dicks that big? I’m not one to judge, but… you got some kind of size kink?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

The colour drained even further from your face, a wave of nausea building up.

“Ah, sorry. You don’t have to tell me…” He smirked. “I guess I’ll just see what everyone else thinks.”

“Everyone… else?”

He cocked his head at you, giving you an innocent nod.

“Yeah… well, I thought it would be unfair to keep your talent to myself. As we speak, copies of your drawings are being distributed throughout school. I told the guys to stick them everywhere… the walls, notice boards, classrooms. It’s the only way I can be sure you’ll get the recognition you deserve, right?”

You began to tremble as the pit in your stomach expanded to the point of collapse. Your drawings… your personal, private sketches of naked bodies and your inner most thoughts, were being spread around the entire school right now.

You’d be a laughing stock. The object of everyone’s hatred. They’d think you were a freak, or a pervert, or…

What had you done to deserve this?

“W- Why…?” You whispered, your words barely audible as tears broke free of your eyes.

Minho smiled, a small conceited action that made you realise that this man was pure evil. There was no good in him. No remorse or regret. He was taking pleasure in this.

“Why?” He mused, bringing his finger to his chin. He leaned across the bed, leaving a distance of mere inches between your faces.

“Do I need a reason to make you miserable?”

As if school life hadn’t been difficult enough, he’d just well and truly put the nail in your coffin. You’d have to transfer, drop out or move towns to get away from this humiliation. Your life as you knew it, was over.

“Minho…” You whispered, your breath staggering as you trembled helplessly with a combination of rage and fear. “I… I don’t know what I’ve done to m- make you hate me so much…”

Minho tutted under his breath, rolling his eyes at you.

“But I want you to know this…” You steeled yourself, steadying your breaking voice as much as you could.

“Maybe next week, maybe next month… maybe even ten years from now, when you’re alone and deadbeat, with no one to turn to… I want you to remember me. I want you to remember the things you’ve done to me. Because bad things happen to bad people. Any misfortunes or losses you ever experience over your life… will have happened because _I_ prayed for it.”

You took another deep breath, the words rolling off your tongue.

“And I promise you… if we ever run into each other again, no matter the time or place…” You paused, your knuckles turning white as your grip on the covers hardened.

“… I’ll kill you.”

* * *

##### 26 years old.

Confidence, self-assurance, and a sense of identity that can only come from years of life experience.

You’d done the high school thing, the college thing, and by some sheer miracle you’d managed to land your dream job as an illustrator at a well respected publishing firm in the big city. It was a far cry from your suburban upbringing, and honestly, that was exactly what you’d wanted.

You woke up every day with a spring in your step and a smile on your face. Your commute to work was nothing but pleasant, saying hello to the other residents of your apartment block as you skipped down the three flights of stairs and began the twenty minute walk to work.

Stepping into your place of work, you quickly swiped your identification card over the sensor and swept through the metal barrier, making a beeline for the escalator.

Various versions of morning greetings were thrown in your direction as you walked to your office, each one of them just as bright and genuine as the last.

You settled at your desk, switching on your computer and checking your schedule for the day.

 **[09:00-10:00]** Organise new inventory

 **[10:00-12:00]** Start templates for July edition (speak to Sarah, confirm tones)

 **[13:00-14:30]** Meeting with Chief Editor, present final drafts for the LK project

You sighed internally at the last entry, knowing full well that the meeting would run for much longer than the allotted hour and a half. That was why you’d hadn’t bothered pencilling anything in after that. The Chief Editor had a tendency to ramble, and you swore to god that if he requested any more changes to the covers you’d drawn up for his latest big project, a series of erotic novels from a promising new author that only went by the alias 'LK’, you’d stab him with a box cutter.

Rolling up your sleeves, you stood from your desk and headed to the drawing room, making a start to your day.

* * *

##### “Y/N, the meeting’s about to start!”

Your colleague called from across the office, gesturing for you to hurry.

“I’m coming!” You shouted, gathering the sketch drafts and binders in your arms as you huffed under your breath.

You staggered to the board room, greeting the Chief Editor, your direct line manager, Sarah, and a few other people from your department as you arranged the documents on the large steel table. Sweeping your hair from your face, you took a seat the other side of Sarah, rearranging your skirt around you.

“Well then, now that everyone’s here…” The Chief began, throwing a small glance in your direction. “Why don’t we begin?”

You shifted in your seat, swallowing as Sarah took over the meeting.

She ran through the first few agendas, with surprisingly little interruption from the Chief, which was very unlike him. Perhaps this wouldn’t run on for that long after all…

“So, Y/N’s finished the final drafts of the LK covers, I think they’re something we can be really be proud of.” Sarah smiled, looking around the room. “Y/N, you want to take this?”

“Oh, sure.” You replied, grabbing the binders and sliding them across the table, one for each person. You opened yours, gesturing for everyone to do the same.

“Well, if you take a look at the first page, you’ll see that I incorporated the-”

“No. No, no, no!”

You looked up in surprise as the Chief interrupted you, promptly cutting off your trail of thought.

“Y/N, didn’t I ask you to change these?!”

“Uh, I did… you asked me to make it more provocative. If you look at the-”

“Then why didn’t you do that?!” He shouted, tossing the binder aside.

You felt your cheeks begin to burn, frustrating building up inside you.

“Sir, if you’ll just look at the old draft against this new one, you’ll see that I’ve modified the colour palette and changed the pose of the-”

“Do you know what kind of books these are?” He asked, interrupting you again and glaring from across the table.

“Y- yes… I do.” You stammered.

“What then?!”

“They’re… they’re erotic novels, Sir.”

“Exactly!” He exclaimed, slapping his hand on the table. “So why do you insist on giving me something that looks like it belongs on the cover of a children’s book?!”

You bit on your lip, fighting away the urge to scream at him and point out his idiocy.

“Sir,” you smiled, gritting your teeth. “With all due respect, if I make this cover any more provocative than it is, stores won’t buy it. You can make a cover erotic without plastering it with nudity. We’re not selling pornography here, we’re-”

“I know full well what we’re selling!” He yelled, his bulgy eyes all but popping out of his head.

He stood from the table, his rotund belly wobbling with a life of its’ own as he walked to the door. He swung it open, poking his head out into the main office.

“Bring him in!!” He called, gesturing at his personal assistant.

The young girl nodded and rushed from her seat, breaking into a dainty run across the room.

You cocked your head at Sarah, who simply shrugged at you.

“If you won’t take my word for it,” he grumbled, slamming the door shut and moving back to his seat. “Then we’ll just have to ask the man himself. But I can guarantee you, he’ll agree with me.”

The man himself? Did he mean… the author?

You’d never actually met him, but from whispers you’d heard around the office he was apparently fairly young and attractive. He’d garnered a lot of attention pretty quickly, moreso because he was a man. It was fairly unusual in this business to find a man that wrote these kinds of novels, and better yet, that wrote them _well_. You’d always pictured him as someone selfless, someone who must be very in tune with what women want and his own feelings.

You sat back in your seat, tapping your pen against your thigh as everyone in the room waited.

Craning your neck, you watched through the murky glass wall that looked out into the office, just able to make out a figure approaching the board room, winding their way through the desks and tables.

Something about the way he moved with his hands in his pockets… it seemed vaguely familiar to you.

He approached the door, his steely grey hair just visible over the frosted glass.

The door opened…

And your heart stopped.

“Everyone, this is Lee Know. Otherwise known as LK. He is the author of the…”

Time ground to a rigid halt as your eyes rested on the person who’d made your adolescent years nothing short of pure hell. The sound of the Chief Editor’s voice bled into the background as the pounding of your heart filled your ears, the blood rushing through your body at lightning speed.

You thought you’d never have to see him again.

He walked with a smug confidence, settling into the plush chair at the head of the table.

He wore tight fitting black jeans and a loose tank top, a leather jacket over his shoulders. His silky locks fell over his eyes that were concealed by dark sunglasses, and he had a thick black choker wrapped around his equally thick neck. You noticed the edges of the long scar that was hidden beneath it.

The scar that you’d given him ten years ago.

It was definitely him. There was no longer any doubt about it. Lee Know, or LK, or whatever the fuck he was calling himself these days must have been a pen name. It wasn’t uncommon for authors to do that, but it had totally knocked you for six. If you’d known it was him… you’d never have agreed to this.

“… and he’ll have the final say. Y/N, can you… Y/N!” The Chief shouted, leaning over the table and smacking the metal in front of you to bring you back to Earth.

You jumped a mile in your seat, your mouth suddenly becoming stone dry as you coughed uncomfortably.

“Go over the drafts with him.” He barked, raising an eyebrow at your sudden change of demeanour.

You cleared your throat, turning your attention back to the matter at hand.

Reaching for the binders, you realised you’d started shaking. Waves of anxiety that you hadn’t felt in years returned to you, and you felt yourself quickly reverting to the fearful schoolgirl you promised yourself you’d never be again.

You took a deep breath, sliding your binder over in his direction, being careful to avoid eye contact.

“W- well… i- if you… if you look at the f -first page… you’ll…”

You couldn’t control your voice, it was breaking away at the seams. Just being near him was making you feel ill. You needed to get away.

“Uh… I’m sorry, c- could you just excuse me… f- for a moment…” You smiled as best you could, standing from your seat and making a beeline for the door, leaving the stares of your bewildered colleagues behind.

You felt eyes burning into your back, and you didn’t give yourself time to see if it was him that was doing that as you broke into a run across the office.

You burst out into the corridor and ran down the hall, straight to the elevators.

You needed air. You needed open space and sunlight… you couldn’t breathe.

The elevator arrived, and you threw yourself inside. Hammering the button for the ground floor, you bounced impatiently on your feet as the doors creaked closed.

And just as they were about to, a hand shoved itself between them, forcing them back open.

You backed yourself up against the opposite wall as Minho sauntered inside, pressing the button to close the doors. He removed his sunglasses, his eyes dark and expression unreadable as he approached you.

“St- stay away from me…” You muttered, bringing your hand to your chest.

He gave you a small smile, hooking his sunglasses behind his ears.

“I thought it was you…” He purred, taking another step closer. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

You shook your head, every nerve in your body alert and on edge.

“I- I’ll scream…”

“I’ve heard that before…” He laughed as he placed his hands either side of your head, pinning you in. “You’ve changed, Y/N.”

You shoved against his chest, causing him to stumble backwards a few steps. You rushed past him and punched at the buttons on the panel to open the doors, your breathing frantic.

“There’s no need for this, you know.”

You felt tears sting at your eyes as he spun you around by the shoulders, pressing you up against the wall.

“P- please… please don’t hurt me.” You whimpered, the strength in your knees fading.

A sudden look of concern crossed him as he heard your words. He held your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

“Y/N…” He whispered, leaning in to your ear. “I owe you… a lifetime of apologies. A million years worth of grovelling for the things I did to you.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, your gazes locking when he pulled away. Despite yourself, you could see the sincerity in his hazel eyes, and it tore you in half. You hated this man. This beautiful, cruel man.

“Your apologies… will never be enough,” you sobbed, curling your fingers into his shirt. “Your words mean less than nothing.”

Minho nodded, his expression contorting with desperate sadness and regret. He swept his thumb over your cheek, collecting your tears.

“I know…”

He leaned in and graced your upper cheek with a gentle kiss.

You froze, eyes wide and glassy as he traced his lips down your jaw, his hand moving down to your waist. His fingers ghosted your curves, the gentle brushes of his lips caressing your own as he kissed you tenderly.

Ten long years worth of pent up emotions and hatred began to bubble inside you, and you felt a build up of pure rage.

_How dare he do this to me…_

You threw your arms around his neck, winding your fingers into his hair. You tugged at the roots, painfully yanking his head backwards and looking him straight in the eyes. He bit on his lip at the action, emitting a low growl from his throat as you whispered sadistically in his ear.

“You’re a _fucking_ animal.”

His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t identify, and before you knew it, you were locked in a frantic mess of lust and anger, the two of you wild in your advances as you furiously consumed each other’s mouths. You whined against him, wrapping your hand firmly around his neck as he hiked up your skirt, pulling it over your waist.

A low moan resounded from you as he squeezed your cheeks with his large hands, and you tightened your grip on his throat, forcing a staggered breath from him.

In truth, you had no idea what the fuck you were thinking. Blame it on bottled up emotions, blame it on a serious lapse in judgement, but whatever the reasons… all you knew right now was that you wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anything.

* * *

##### Crashing into your apartment, the door bounced off the hinges as Minho forced you inside, his hands touching you everywhere.

You kicked the door shut as he took you in his arms, looking around for the nearest hard surface he could fuck you against.

Settling on the dining table, he stumbled over to it and sat you on the edge. Taking hold of the shirt of your collar, he promptly ripped it open with one swift movement, sending the little plastic buttons clattering to the ground.

“Fuck… you’re beautiful.” He growled, freeing your breast from the confines of your bra and lunging for it with his mouth.

You threw your head back as he sucked and nipped at your skin, taking the bud of your nipple between his teeth. He rolled it expertly, forcing a whine out of you as you reached down to his waist.

You fumbled with the buckle of his jeans, unhooking the clasp and sliding down the zipper.

You slid your hand inside as he frantically lapped at your neck and collarbone, wrapping your hand around his throbbing member. He hissed between his teeth as you gripped it firmly, pumping him over the sheer fabric of his boxers. You squeezed him tightly, relishing in the sounds he released.

Feeling a wave of confidence, you violently ripped the choker from his throat, exposing the scar you’d left him with all those years ago. You felt a pang of pride as you dragged your tongue across the marked skin, causing him to shiver at your actions.

“You’re pathetic…” You snarled, constricting his airway as you placed your hand around his neck and continued to work him.

He bit on his lip, his eyes now black with lust as he reached up to your throat, choking you in the same way you were doing to him. His other hand found your clothed heat, and he cupped you deliciously, sliding his fingers through your damp slit.

You moaned deeply as you parted your lips, and were promptly silenced as he stole the chance to slide his tongue into your mouth. A slick mess of saliva formed between the two of you, creating strings from your lips as he broke away.

He swatted your hand away from his neck, taking back control as he pushed your chest back to the table. You watched him as he removed your panties, all but ripping them off your legs.

“How long have you wanted this, slut?” He purred, freeing his straining cock from their prison. He pumped himself beautifully, collecting his own pre-cum from the angry head and swiping it across your lips. You visibly swallowed as you took in the ridiculous size of his length, your mouth hanging agape and eyes going wide at the thought of having him inside you.

“I knew you had a fucking size kink… even back then.”

You slid down the table helplessly as he pulled at your ankles and lined himself up with your soaking entrance. You arched your back as he laved his cock through your folds, teasing you with a sadistic glint in his eye.

“Fuck you…” You cursed, your voice raspy and cheeks burning with fire as he pointed out the fetish he’d noticed you were harbouring even before you had.

“How about I fuck you instead?”

With a sharp snap of his hips, he filled you completely, sliding his rock hard length into your pussy with almost hilarious ease. You mewled instantly, clutching at the edge of the table as he began to pound you with relentless vigour, the veins in his neck popping at the snugness of your embrace.

“Ugh… _fuck_. Why did we wait so long to do this?” He groaned, doubling over you as he picked up the pace.

You bounced helplessly up the table, too consumed by your need to cum as the tightness in your core threatened to explode.

“Shut… the f- fuck up. Ruin me, M- Minho…” You commanded, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

He smirked wickedly, stopping for a brief moment to whip his clothing off over his head. You drooled at the sight of his perfectly toned body, dragging your nails down his tanned abs and over the ridges of his v-line.

“Why d- don’t I… give you another scar, hm? Right… here-”

You firmly scraped at the skin on his chest with your longest fingernail, and he growled under his breath. He shook his head at your taunts, as if daring you to do it.

Bringing you back into line, he forced you to cry out in pleasure as he rammed into you, his grip firm on your waist, pulling you back towards him down the table. He assaulted your g-spot again and again, the stunning curve of his cock driving you wilder with each sultry thrust of his hips.

“Ugh… _yes_ \- don’t… don’t stop-” You whined, feeling heat flood your body as the beginnings of an orgasm began to rip through you. You quivered violently, gripping at his forearms and squeezing your eyes shut tight as you emitted the most sinfully desperate moan.

Minho tensed, his cock stiffening with his own orgasm as your high pushed him over the edge. He cursed under his breath, throwing his head back and rutting into your hopelessly tight pussy as he filled you to the brim with his release.

Exhausted and fucked out, you all but collapsed beneath him, your chest heaving as he pulled himself out of you.

Admiring his handiwork, he licked his lips as he watched his seed spill out of your entrance. With two long fingers, he slipped them inside you, pumping them gently and watching in awe as your cum and his mixed together in a slick, messy scene.

He collected it on his fingers, holding them above your naked chest and humming as it dripped it over your breasts and down the sides of your body. The milky white fluid made your skin tingle as it connected, hot and sticky.

“What a beautiful fucking mess I’ve made of you…” He sighed, dragging his fingertips through the cum on your chest, swirling patterns into your skin.

“I’ve never hated anyone… more than I hate you… Lee Minho.”

Your words came out as a breathy sigh, your intent behind them still as valid as it would have been before he’d fucked you to high heaven.

“I know.” He smiled, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. “And I intend to keep this up until you forgive me.”

He gathered you in his arms, holding you close to his chest. The rhythmic beatings of your hearts soon became all you could feel, tentatively connecting you, creating the beginnings of a careful, uncertain relationship. He held your gaze, affectionately brushing a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

“Even if takes another ten years.”

**Author's Note:**

> ~ Feedback via [Tumblr](https://jl-micasea.tumblr.com/)  
> ~ Support via [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/jlmicasea)


End file.
